#eichen house

[teencopandthesourwolf]

Stiles: You wouldn't last 2 minutes in the asylum i was railed in

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Whatever your feelings on Stalia are, you can’t deny that they most definitely matched each other’s freak. From day one too. Stiles is one of the main reasons why the pack was able to find Malia and turn her back into a human, all while not being able to read a word on paper or chalkboard. Malia wishes she weren’t turned back into a human, and was able to live out the rest of her life in coyote form, and also punched Stiles the next time they meet in the show. Then they do the deed in the super dark and creepy basement of a mental institution where they are both patients, and where Stiles keeps having dreams about the psychotic fox spirit possessing him. You know. Normal teenage stuff.

[teenwolf-confessions]

Yes, Eichen has been an important setting and important to the plot, but the plot is whatever the writers decide, it could have been any number of other locations where any number of other things may have happened. Eichen was written in because the writers wanted it, and specifically, I think it's because (originally) Jeff Davis wanted it, and if you've ever felt a similar disconnect and incongruity about Eichen, it is because Eichen is basically Arkham Asylum. Jeff Davis is a well-known fan of Batman comics, and that influence is all over Teen Wolf but especially all over season 3b, which was heavily inspired by Batman: Hush. Similarly, the existence of Eichen as a parallel to Arkham from Batman comics is impossible to ignore.

And I hate it, because a place like Eichen has no room in a story like Teen Wolf, a story about people who are othered and dehumanized and how they stand up against that. Eichen is a place where people who are othered are placed, where they get dehumanized. Eichen is a place, we later learn, where specifically supernatural people are imprisoned and dehumanized. Eichen is a place where we don't even get to learn the names of those people, and at the end of the story they are all killed off, unceremoniously, and we don't even get to see what happens to them after. Did their bodies get buried? Were their relatives told? We don't know their names, but even worse, we're never told we should care about their names. In a story about these same people being othered and dehumanized!! We do know the names of the orderlies and doctors, and we know they are all terrible people, we get to put a name to the face, humanize them. The vast, vast majority of patients and - let's face it - inmates at Eichen do not get that.

The narrative utility of Arkham, although not morally-neutral, is undeniable - Arkham is a "safe zone" to keep villains in for a later story, because Batman can never end, and thus the villains can never change. Arkham is a narrative holding space. In comparison, Teen Wolf is a story that was always meant to have an ending - it does not have the same narrative justification for a place like Eichen. What it has, instead, is a space that, logically, should hang over the heads of Scott, Malia, Kira, Lydia, hell, even Stiles, constantly, as a recurring thought "if I step an inch over the line, this is where they'll put me". It's a space that hangs over the narrative of othered people standing up to those who other them. It's a space that, in the story, does not get resolved - it only gets written out, performing its function to dehumanize the people in it.

The plot of a story is what the creators wrote for it. There is not real-life Beacon Hills with its supernatural underworld we can point to and say "see, they have an Eichen House just like in the show". The writers chose how to write this story. The writers chose to include an element in the show that undermines its very basic premise. We end season 3a with our heroes making peace with the villains, even the bloodiest, most dangerous kind, due to a belief in humanity and not othering people but extending a hand. We end season 4 with our heroes imprisoning the villain and are shown said villain suffering in his prison. The ideological shift of the show that came with the introduction of Eichen is not subtle and, most importantly, entirely a choice. And I really, really, *really* hate it.

[gayholloway]

[Click. Monroe presses record. The tape rolls.] [Monroe clears her throat, adjusting the recorder.] Monroe: Psych log, recording on 9/23/12 for work with Nolan Holloway. Friday was my first session with Nolan. His primary doctor recommended sessions thrice a week during his stay until he’s either moved to a more long-term facility or discharged. Or: a Banshee-Nolan AU following the rough plot of the Little Nightmares podcast, The Sounds of Nightmares.

[cutielando]

Hi!!!

I hope you are having a wonderful day/night :)

I was wondering if you could do a theo darken x reader imagine pls. One in which Yn is mentally and physically exhausted of the night they rescue Lydia from eichen house and theo sneaks in when Yn is having a panic attack, when he calms her down they banter a little and then Yn forgives him and Theo holds her as she falls asleep.

Thanks you so much!!!<3

my masterlist

Numb.

That's the only thing you had been feeling ever since you got back from rescuing Lydia.

You weren't supposed to be feeling like this. You were supposed to be happy that you rescued your best friend, happy that she was okay. But you weren't.

Theo had been calling you non-stop ever since you went back home to check on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer the phone. Instead, you just sat on the floor of your bedroom, looking at the ringing phone and not moving a muscle.

You didn't know how to deal with all of this. You were just a normal high school student before you found out about the supernatural and now you were suddenly thrown into this mayhem of life-and-death threats every single day.

How were you supposed to keep your friends safe? How could you help them? You weren't special, you didn't have powers, you didn't possess any special abilities, you were a liability to everyone. Especially your boyfriend.

You were so entranced in your thoughts that were spiraling out of control that you didn't even notice your rapid breathing, your struggle to get air into your lungs, the sweat coating your forehead because of the effort you were putting in by breathing.

"Y/N?" you heard a distant voice call, your blurry vision trying to find the source of it.

Your eyes settles on a figure climbing through your window and rushing towards you, cupping your face.

"Y/N, look at me, baby" the voice once again said, and you could now somewhat clearly see Theo crouching down in front of you, his worried eyes burning onto your shaking form.

"I can't- I can-can't catch m-my b-b-brea-breath" you wheezed out, feeling the air leaving your lungs with each word.

"Baby, I need you to focus on me and try and breathe with me. One deep breath in and one deep breath out. Come on, breathe with me. In and out, in and out" you only focused on his voice and tried to match his breathing, tears continuously streaming down your eyes.

After a couple of minutes, you managed to get your breathing under control and stopped crying, but the feeling of numbness was still overly presence in your bones.

"What happened?" Theo asked after a minute of silence, running his hands up and down your arms.

"Tonight happened. Being in that place, seeing what it did to Lydia and seeing all of you risking your lives to get her out of there and I was just... there. I couldn't do anything because I'm so fucking useless to everyone" you ranted, pouring out everything in front of your boyfriend.

"Hey, hey, how can you say that? You're not useless to us, you're not useless to any of us"

"I AM!! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT? You are all supernatural and can take care of yourselves and I'm just there, always the collateral damage, always needing someone to rescue me and always needing help with everything"

"Listen to me. It doesn't matter to us if you're a werewolf or a chimera or a banshee or anything. You're Y/N, that's more than enough for everyone. Please don't ever feel like you're a burden to us because you're not, especially not to me. I love you, and I'm always gonna do everything in my power to keep you safe because I want to, not because you feel like I need to. Do you understand?"

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. You couldn't help but leap into his arms, holding him tightly.

He enveloped you in his arms and stood up, placing the both of you on your bed so you would be more comfortable. He started running his hands up and down your back and in your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

His soothing touch and loving words were enough to lull you into a deep sleep, nestled in the arms of the love of your life.

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[theo-notts-doll]

david bowie’s song ‘life on mars?’ reminds me of lydia martin and i just felt like i needed to tell someone.

[maria021015]

Stiles's eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to regain consciousness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. With a groan, he slowly blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings as the haze of unconsciousness began to lift. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the basement, he found he was bound to an old chair, his wrists and ankles tightly secured with rough rope. Panic surged through him as he fought against his restraints, his heart pounding with fear. His head whipped around, neck craning in every direction in desperation to find the brunette girl with the hazel eyes, to no avail.

"Zaida?" His voice was hoarse as he called out, his eyes darting around the shadowy space. "Zay, where are you? Are you okay?"

There was no response, only the echo of his own desperate cries bouncing off the walls. Stiles's chest tightened with dread as he strained to find any sign of her. Instead, his eyes landed on the shadowy outline of a figure standing in the dark corner, watching him. The goosebumps that rippled across his skin told him that he wasn’t alone. Not in the basement, and certainly not in his own head. He knew the feeling of that harrowing presence prickling at the back of his neck. His time had run out. The Nogitsune was back.

"Where is she?" Stiles's voice wavered with a mixture of anger and fear, his mind fixated on the missing girl. Was she still here somewhere, unconscious? Was she hurt? Was she… dead? “What did you do to her?!”

Stiles's heart hammered in his chest as he awaited an answer, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The figure chuckled darkly in amusement, and it was not the deep, raspy sound he’d expected. Instead, it was lilting - hauntingly so - as it reverberated off the smooth stone walls. The figure shrouded in darkness stepped forward into the dim moonlight, and Zaida’s tear-streaked face smiled back at him. But the look in her hollow eyes sent a chill down Stiles's spine, a depth of pain lurking within that he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Nothing compared to what he’s about to do," She whispered an answer to his question, her voice chillingly calm and devoid of emotion. His words caught in his throat as she lifted a large mechanical drill, positioning the sharp and rusted bit over her temple.

“Wha-What are you doing?” His heart faltering, he stuttered, mind struggling to comprehend what he was looking at until a shuffling of feet scraped against the ground. The sound called his attention to another presence slowly moving from behind him until it crept into his peripheral vision. The bandaged man jittered unnaturally as he moved, and Stiles’ muscles stiffened in response. His fear swiftly gave way to anger, his voice raising shakily. “You did this. You got into her head!”

“Every Dracula needs a Renfield, Stiles.” The Nogitsune hummed, tilting his head as he shifted his focus to Zaida. Loosening a trembling breath from her lips, her finger tightened over the power switch, and the drill roared to life. The whirring of metal filled Stiles’ ears like a deafening symphony, striking terror into his chest. Her eyes locked onto his, and it was as though he was staring through a mask at the girl pleading with him to help her.

But Zaida wasn’t trying to ask for help. Zaida wanted release. She wanted nothing more than to drive that drill into her own skull and end all of it. She craved the sweet release of death - an abrupt end to this cruel mortal coil. If Stiles let her die, maybe the Nogitsune taking over her head and puppeteering her body would die with her. Maybe it would end this whole mess once and for all. Maybe the rest of them would be safe. The Nogitsune wasn’t even bothering with consuming the entirety of her emotions anymore - he had no reason to now that he was strong enough to control her without her permission. She was a hostage within her own mind, and so she felt everything. Visceral guilt ripped through her heart relentlessly as she watched the boy she cared about fight to get to her.

“No, no, no…” Stiles shook his head. The words were like a chant as he tugged at the ropes bound around his limbs in a struggle to escape. “No, Zaida! Stop it! Zaida! Turn it off!”

“You know what trepanation is, Stiles,” The words coming out of her mouth were barely her own. She had just enough influence left to twist the Nogitsune’s intended message and attempt to hide her own for Stiles to decipher. “But do you know it’s history? Ancient civilisations spanning from Mesopotamia to Mesoamerica as early as six thousand BC believed that drilling or cutting holes into the skull would release evil spirits trapped within. Most people assume these procedures were forced unto others whose conditions could not be explained as anything other than possession, but I believe that some of them wanted it - a desperate attempt at freeing themselves from the torment within their own minds.”

“Zaida, please, just…Just put down the drill,” Stiles begged her, shaking his head as tears spilled from his thick lashes, still fighting against his restraints. The naiad only inched the machine closer towards her skin. When it became clear that she would not listen to him, he turned to the Nogitsune. “Stop it! Don’t make her do this! Make her stop !”

“I have an evil spirit in my head, Stiles,” Zaida admitted softly, her voice empty with resignation. Trapped within her own body, she prayed that the boy would understand her hidden message. “And it wants to be free.”

"I can't let you do this," Stiles whispered his pleas, his voice barely above a breath. "Please, Zay, don't do this."

“You know what you have to do, Stiles.” The Nogitsune hissed, taunting him with the only solution available to him at that moment. He knew to save Zaida he needed to give in, but he also knew how many people would be hurt if he did so.

“Zay, no!” He sobbed, despair claiming his heart as he racked his brains for any other alternative.

But Zaida's resolve remained unyielding, her eyes betraying a sorrow he couldn't bear to see. As his chest clenched painfully in anguish, he watched her drive the revolving tip of the drill into her flesh. She did not cry out in pain as crimson dripped down the side of her face. She simply closed her eyes and gave in, and so did Stiles. As he surrendered to the consuming darkness, he felt himself slipping away, lost to the void that awaited him.

“I take it Allison was correct in her assumption?” Deaton eyed the small scroll that Scott placed atop the metal bench in the back room of the animal clinic.

“It was inside Katashi’s finger, just like she thought,” Scott confirmed with a nod, tense with anticipation as the vet unravelled the parchment and inspected its contents.

“There isn't much here, unfortunately…” The man tilted his head at the tiny length of paper and Scott’s heart sank. To think about what they had all gone through to get that scroll…

“Does it say anything ?” The werewolf looked at Deaton with wide, hopeful eyes.

“My Japanese isn't great…” Deaton explained, his eyes scanning the symbols in black ink once more. “But, it appears to say that one method of expelling a Nogitsune is to change the body of the host.”

“Change the body?” Scott repeated in slight disbelief, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“Which begs the question…” Deaton trailed off, looking at Scott expectantly. “How do we change Stiles' body?”

“...By turning him into a werewolf.” Scott landed on the only solution, his stomach writhing with nervousness.

He knew Stiles had been offered the bite once before by Peter, and he had rejected it. It had clearly never been something he had wanted. But when offered it again when faced with a possible frontotemporal dementia diagnosis, he had agreed. Giving Stiles the bite was something Scott had been prepared to do, but that was when the boy himself had given permission. Stiles wasn’t exactly in a state where he could consent right now. It left Scott with a dilemma, wondering if biting Stiles without his permission was the right thing to do.

“Coming in on a Saturday? That's dedication.” Void drawled as he walked leisurely into the history classroom, Zaida not far behind him. Her body was moving against her will, arms crossing and hip jutting out as she watched the Nogitsune rifle through the contents of Mr Yukimura’s bookshelf in Stiles’ form. “Where is she hiding them?”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about…” The teacher responded calmly, playing dumb in the hopes that they would leave.

“Her little knives. Daggers. I know what they are: a physical representation of her tails...however, the hell that works…” Void continued knocking over books, searching through the pages before discarding them.

“Maybe you'd like to do some reading on it?” The man insisted upon being entirely unhelpful, and Zaida felt the Nogitsune controlling her burn with frustration. “I can direct you to the section on Japanese myth in the library.”

“No, we want to talk to you.” Zaida flashed a toothy grin at the man. “And maybe if you stop playing at being an ignorant teacher, we’ll let you live.”

“The older the tail, the stronger the Oni...Am I right?” Void continued, walking slowly towards Kira’s father. “I know there's one left. I know it's the strongest.”

“Unfortunately, I don't know what you're referring to…” Mr Yukimura’s voice shook slightly, maintaining his act of innocence. Unfortunately for him, the Nogitsune did not need his permission. The Nogitsune didn’t need anyone’s permission anymore. Zaida edged around the desk, leaning against the structure as her hazel eyes locked onto the teacher, waiting for Void’s signal. Her own screams echoed in her own head as she begged herself to stop, but it was no use.

“You'll talk...They always talk.” Void tilted Stiles’ head at the teacher as he reached towards a textbook on the desk, lifting it to reveal a darting black insect. As he did so, Zaida gripped Ken Yukimura by his hair, pulling his head back and prying open his locked jaw with the other hand as the buzzing fly rushed into his open mouth.

“What is it? You’ve got this look like everything's gone wrong,” Kira questioned as she let Scott into her room.

“Everything is going wrong. The Sheriff got a call from Eichen House,” Scott began to explain the reasoning behind his deep-set frown. “Stiles and Zaida have both escaped. I think it’s safe to say that the lichen and fennel wore off. The Nogitsune is back on the playing field. And there’s more…One of the orderlies found this on the ground in the basement.”

Kira took the item from the werewolf’s outstretched hands, glancing at it to find what looked like her own face staring straight back at her in an old photograph. “This looks just like me. This has to be my grandmother,” She whispered in surprise.

“You remember, I told you about Malia? She's the last one who saw Stiles and Zaida at Eichen House. This picture, and this…” Scott pulled an old Katana in a scabbard from inside his jacket, offering it to her as well. “They found it with a body buried in a wall. The same backwards five that the Oni put on us was on the wall. It sounds like it all goes back to your family - your grandmother, your mom…”

Before they could ruminate on the items any further, Kira’s phone buzzed with a notification. She pulled it from her own pocket only for her face to fall as she read the message on her lit-up screen. “What is it?” Scott questioned as the girl’s chemosignals alerted him to her panic.

“My dad. Stiles and Zaida showed up at the school.” She answered with a thick swallow as several more buzzes followed the original message. “My mom needs me to bring something.”

After retrieving a small vile from her parent’s room, both Kira and Scott were out of her house and on his dirt bike within minutes, speeding through the streets of suburban Beacon Hills until they pulled into the school parking lot. The tyres screeched as they came to a sudden stop, and neither of them bothered to make sure it was parked properly before sprinting into the school building. They hurried down the winding corridor, taking a sharp right into their history classroom to find Kira’s parents huddled on the floor. Her father was choking loudly as her mother tried to comfort him, immediately reaching for the vile she’d requested upon catching sight of Kira.

“Kira, did you bring it?” Noshiko asked with an outstretched hand as her husband clutched at his throat.

“You going to tell me what ‘it’ is?” Kira challenged but handed the small glass bottle over regardless, kneeling on the cold tiled floor.

“Reishi,” The older woman answered concisely and untwisted the metal cap before pouring its contents into her husband’s mouth.

“You're not seriously giving Dad magic mushrooms?” Kira gaped at her parents, but the substance seemed to work as Ken’s spluttering and coughs became fewer and further in between.

“Are you okay?” Noshiko asked her husband tenderly, and he nodded as the redness in his face faded back to his usual colour. Slowly she helped him to his feet.

“Stiles and Zaida did this?” Scott asked, watching the man with concerned eyes.

“He wanted the last kaiken.” Noshiko nodded in confirmation of the werewolf’s question and pulled a black blade from her pocket, holding it up for them to see. “I've kept this near me ever since your friend disappeared.”

“Mom, you need to talk to us - about everything.” Kira handed her mother the image that Scott had given her in her room earlier and Noshiko’s face paled.

“Where did you get this?” The woman asked in disbelief, staring at the image with a recognition that told them she knew exactly what it was.

“Is it Grandma?” Kira prompted, her brows lifting in curiosity.

“No…” Noshiko shook her head. “It's me.”

“You…You can’t be that old!” Scott blurted, his lips parted as he stared at the woman. Kira shot him a surprised expression, and he quickly backtracked. “I just mean…If that's you, then you'd have to be, like, ninety years old…”

“Closer to nine hundred,” Noshiko’s lips pulled tight in slight amusement as the two teens stared at her, shock written on their faces.

“Okay. Sure. Why not?” Kira sighed, evidently slightly overwhelmed by the new information facing them. She turned to her father - who had now recovered and was leaning against his desk. “Dad, how old are you?”

“Forty-three. But, I've been told I look mid-thirties…” The man smiled innocently, unaffected by the news which he was clearly already aware of.

“What about this?” Kira handed the broken sword that had been found at Eichen House to her mother as well. Noshiko held out before her over the desk, pulling the handle free of its sheath only to reveal the blade had been snapped off close to the hilt. Tilting the scabbard, multiple lengths of metal clattered to the desk.

“The blade shattered the last time it was used,” Noshiko explained, running her fingers over the scabbard lovingly.

“When was that?” The kitsune questioned, hoping to glean more than one piece of information at a time. It was clear that her parents knew a lot more about what was going on in Beacon Hills than either of them had previously let on.

"Nineteen forty-three…against a Nogitsune.” The woman admitted unflinchingly.

“All this - it's all happened before, hasn't it?” Scott realised, recognising the familiarity behind Noshiko’s eyes.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Mr Yukimura quoted George Santayana, confirming the werewolf’s suspicions.

“Where did it come from?” Kira pushed her mother to reveal more to them. Trying to pry the information out of her felt like pulling teeth and it was becoming frustrating.

“It was an internment camp during World War II...In Oak Creek, not far from here.” Noshiko added the last part, almost like an afterthought. As though she was debating how much to tell them.

“Hold on - you told Allison and Isaac that there was no internment camp at Oak Creek.” Scott glanced at Mr Yukimura challengingly.

“Allison's family has a certain history of violence. I didn't know if she could be trusted.” Ken explained his intentions behind withholding the information. “There was a camp, yes...But all the records were erased.”

“They covered it up,” Noshiko rephrased her husband's words with a harsh expression.

“When I was a grad student, my passion project - actually more like an obsession - was trying to dig up the truth on Oak Creek.” Mr Yukimura elaborated. “It's how I met your mother, Kira.”

“So, where did the Nogitsune come from?” Kira looked once again to her mother for answers.

“Isn't it obvious, yet? It came from me.” The woman hissed, pain behind her dark eyes. Scott’s pulse leapt with surprise. As did Kira’s while her mother attempted to reassemble the katana out of the broken pieces on the desk. “Kira, I need your help on this. There isn't much time, and this is something that needs to be done in the daylight.”

“Not until you tell us everything.” The kitsune refused stubbornly.

“Tell them, Noshiko - tell them what they need to know.” Ken urged his wife in a soft plea, and she appeared to contemplate it for a moment.

“Foxes and Wolves tend not to get along, and not just in fables and stories,” Noshiko noted, eyeing Scott warily.

“But allies, however unlikely, should be welcomed - especially in times of war.” Ken shot his wife a pointed look, and finally, she yielded.

“I was one of the prisoners kept at Oak Creek. I would steal from the American soldiers - food, and medical supplies. An older woman there, Satomi, she disapproved of me - thought I was reckless and stupid. I wouldn’t know until much later how right she was.” Noshiko mused bitterly. “The soldiers were cruel. They treated us like animals, took what they wanted from us, policed us with fear…All except one. Rhys was different. He didn’t touch the women like Merrick, or taunt us with the threat of inspections like Hayes. Rhys was kind, and gentle, and he loved me.”

“Okay, stop. Just stop!” Kira wrinkled her nose as she interrupted, her words prickly with irritation. “We don't want to hear your Casablanca story - we wanna know how to save Stiles and Zaida!”

“I'm trying to tell you-” Noshiko defended, but Scott saw straight through her ruse.

“You're trying to stall.” He called her out on her lie. “When the sun goes down, the Oni are gonna come after them, aren't they?”

“Your friends are gone, Scott,” Noshiko stated stubbornly.

“I don't think you know that for sure.” Scott rebutted, not changing his stance. They’d come this far to get Stiles and Zaida back, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “You brought the Oni - can you call them off?”

“Stiles may be your best friend...He might be like a brother to you, and Zaida like a sister...But Stiles is Nogitsune now. He is void, and the naiad remains controlled through him. There is no saving her unless he is dead.” Noshiko explained, purposefully ignoring the werewolf’s question.

“Can you call them off?” Scott locked his jaw, repeating himself forcefully at a louder volume.

”When you hear the rest of the story, you won't want me to.” She assured him. “Rhys and I found ways to see each other. Sometimes at the barracks...sometimes in the bunkers where they parked military vehicles. He was being transferred to North Africa in a few weeks. I was teaching him some French...We watched Merrick and Hayes talking with the camp doctor. They were whispering, talking quickly and exchanging money…”

Without warning, Noshiko reached for one of the still-sharp shards of metal scattered over the desktop. “Noshiko,” Ken warned her, but she did not listen and instead squeezed it in her fist tightly until it drew blood.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Kira gasped, however, when Noshiko opened her fist and allowed the metal to fall once more among its brethren, her palm was fully healed. “How did you do that?”

“It's one of our talents - something you'll learn, Kira. You should've noticed by now that you never get sick. Ever. You'll never experience something as simple as a common cold. Something as bad as the flu. Or something like…pneumonia.” The older kitsune continued her tale. “Soon enough, everyone in camp was sick, and the medicine used to treat it had run out. Only, I knew we had more. I’d seen it when I stole supplies off the truck. Rhys checked his log...But, we already knew what was happening. Dr. Liston was using Merrick and Hayes to sell medicine on the black market. When I told the others, chaos broke out. I had realized the mistake I had made by speaking too soon. I wasn't helping anyone - I was inciting a riot. I yelled for them to stop. But so many people were sick...and so many were dying…The last person who I expected to lash out attacked the soldiers - Satomi. I'd never seen anger like that. It was a living, breathing thing. Now I knew why Satomi was always trying to keep quiet. Why she got migraines once a month, and why she was always at the game of Go - it kept her calm.”

“She was bitten,” Scott deduced, stunned with his mouth gaping open.

“Bitten werewolves have a harder time suppressing their anger. One unexpected flare-up, and they could lose all control.” Noshiko’s voice lowered grimly, thick with emotion. “The gunfire nearly killed me. I don't know how many bullets made their way into my body, but I fought every one of them...It left my body so weak, my heartbeat so slow, it appeared as though I was dead. But, even then, I was still better off than Rhys. He’d been burned nearly to death. His screams could be heard throughout Eichen House - echoing through every room, every hallway…He died in agony - the doctor, it seems, had also sold the morphine.”

“Eichen House?” Scott interrupted, surprised to hear the place mentioned. He recalled how Lydia had led them to the basement of the facility when looking for Stiles and wondered if this might somehow explain why. If the bandaged body behind the wall was Rhys.

“Eichen House acted as Oak Creek’s hospital facilities at the time,” Ken answered the werewolf’s question.

“What happened after the riot?” Kira prompted her mother to keep going with her story, despite the obvious pain etched into the older kitsune’s features.

“Merrick and Hayes were given the task of getting rid of all the bodies, both American and Japanese-American. They were transferring Dr. Liston out as well, stationing him somewhere else. They were covering it up - the doctor, Merrick, Hayes, and all of the others. They were gonna get away with murder!” Noshiko exclaimed, still outraged by what she had endured. “By chance, I guess, Rhys' body had been put next to mine. I wanted the soldiers and the administration of the camp to be punished for their crimes. But, I knew the clock was ticking. I was going to lose my chance. They were going to burn me with the others. I couldn't fight back with my body weakened and still healing. I could barely move. I was going to die. With time slipping through my fingers, I knew I was making a terrible decision. But, I could not die knowing that they would get away...So, I called out to our ancestors for kitsune-tsuki, possession by a Fox spirit... For a powerful Nogitsune, one that feeds off chaos, strife, and pain, to take control of my weakened body, imbue it with power and use it as a weapon. But, calling on a trickster is a dangerous thing - they can have a very dark sense of humour. Because, while the Nogitsune did come to possess someone, it wasn’t me.”

“What happened?” Scott’s brows furrowed solemnly, feeling a pang of sympathy for what the woman had gone through. What was happening now to Stiles had happened to Rhys. Only it hadn’t been Scott’s fault, but it had been Noshiko’s.

“My body was beginning to heal, and I managed to pull myself up from the ground. But, it was too late…” The woman’s voice broke.

“What did it do?” Scott’s tone softened at sensing her pain.

“It brought chaos, strife, and more pain than you can imagine...It slaughtered everyone in its path.” Noshiko shook her head. “I had to find him. I had to stop him. Satomi helped me drive my katana through his heart”

Silence fell over them all as they digested the tale of history, and Noshiko was the first to break it, casting her eyes out towards the setting sun outside. “Kira, hurry. Night is coming,” She urged her daughter over to the desk, staring at the broken sword that had ended her lover’s cursed life. “Coup de foudre. The literal translation is ‘a bolt of lightning’. In French, it can also mean, ‘love at first sight’, but, a bolt of lightning happens to be exactly what we need right now.”

“For what?” The young kitsune asked as her mother reorganised the pieces like solving a jigsaw puzzle.

“Excising the Nogitsune from Rhys' body shattered the katana...But you can put it back together.” Noshiko explained.

“Why don't you just do it yourself?” Kira wondered aloud, unsure of how she would even accomplish such a task.

“Because I'm not a Thunder Kitsune.” Her mother’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “Do you trust me?”

“I just found out you're nine hundred years old - I don't think I'm ever gonna trust you again.” Kira huffed, making a poor attempt at a joke.

“Trust me on this,” Noshiko took Kira’s hand and led it to hover over the broken blade. With a nod, she encouraged the young kitsune to unleash her powers along its length.

Kira wasn’t certain exactly what she was doing, but she felt a pull of energy from herself to the weapon, and simply allowed it to flow. Before she knew it, sparks were zapping before her eyes and lightning poured from her hands into the metal. When she was done and the light faded, the sword looked as good as new.

[stilesdemonbaby]

Prompt 1: Power Couple by LadyArinn

Summary:

They take Peter away from him like they're allowed to, like they have any right to do so. Honestly, they should have expected the fallout.

Tags: Eichen | Echo House, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Bad Friend Scott McCall, assholes in love

Published: 2021-02-02

Words: 2,506

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up

[maciswack]

Stiles lost his virginity to a werecyote in an insane asylum. Talk about a first time.

[crowley1990]

This mental hospital with all these locked doors with keys is a total fire safety hazard, all the locked doors should be electronic and should automatically release when the fire alarm goes off. Otherwise you’re going to have a tragic accident and residents will burn to death in their rooms.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.

[blackhholes]

teen wolf meme: [3/5] motifs -> resurrection

It's different now. I think dying did something to him. It did something to me, too. But none of it was good.

[many-gay-magpies]

TEEN WOLF SEASON 3B WATCH YIPPEE !!

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

Stiles burying himself in debt to go to Eichen House when he Did Not Have To Do That and it also Didn't Help At All.

[maria021015]

Upon hearing the sharp knock at the apartment entryway, Allison moved into the hallway. Twisting the doorknob, she opened the front door and stepped aside to allow Scott, Ethan and Aiden inside.

“My father said all of the Katashi evidence is being moved to a federal lockup by armoured car tonight - probably within the next few hours.” The huntress relayed to them the information she’d spent the past twenty minutes discussing with Lydia. The two girls had already formulated a plan to retrieve Katashi’s silver finger, hoping that it would hold the Shugendo scroll that would free Zaida and Stiles from the Nogitsune’s control.

“We're going to rob an armoured car?” Ethan deduced, his brows raising in disbelief as he followed the others further into the apartment where Lydia was waiting by the doorway into the living room.

“Well…” The redhead tilted her head and lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. In her opinion, it was worth every shot they could take to get their best friends back. “We're going to try.”

Zaida ran the pathetic excuse of a bar of soap over her body, rinsing the non-existent suds off her skin and out of her hair for the second time that day. But Malia had wanted to freshen up before bed, and it gave Zaida an opportunity to better learn the layout of the facility. At least this time she didn’t have to tediously scrub off dried blood with her bare hands. When she was finished, she twisted the rusted knobs to shut off the weak flow of water. As the sound of the spray lessened, her ears perked up to approaching footsteps. Wrapping a thin towel around her body and tucking the corner in so the fabric would not fall, she stepped away from the wall of showers. A familiar figure walked into the bathroom in what appeared to be a hurry, facing the line of sinks and mirrors spotted with age.

“Okay. Okay, just got to stay awake, Stiles. You just gotta stay-” The boy’s muttering trailed off when he caught sight of Zaida’s reflection in the mirror. She stood between him and Malia, blocking the werecoyote from view. Not that he could see much through the thick haze of steam clouding the space. He immediately gaped at the unclothed naiad, unable to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder. His eyes locked onto her, studying her barely concealed form with lips parted in surprise. The swell of her breasts peeked out from the towel’s edge, skin still slick with water as her damp hair clung to her neck. Then, as if the thought had just occurred to him that he shouldn’t be looking, he tore his gaze away awkwardly, staring at the floor.

“In case you’re wondering, yes, you did just walk into the girls’ room,” Malia commented blankly, unbothered by the possibility of the boy seeing her naked.

“Malia is very comfortable with nudity,” Zaida explained, adjusting the towel around herself. The way Stiles’ eyes had darkened as he looked at her for that brief moment before turning away had not escaped her. She knew he wanted her. It was no longer a secret how he felt about her. Only, as she tilted her head at him curiously, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Right, uh-I…I’m sorry,” He stuttered, blinking at the tiled ground. “So, uh, what’re you girls doing?”

Stiles cursed himself for his one stupidity as the words slipped his mouth, his features scrunching as he cringed. “Showering,” Malia answered nonchalantly, still revelling in the heat of the water.

“I can see that! I mean, I saw that.” He rushed to correct his words, fumbling over his tongue in the process. His mind was a fuzzy mess, still distracted by the sight of Zaida in nothing but that tightly wrapped towel… “Well, actually, I didn't see anything, really...I just...There was too much steam to, uh... Not that I would prefer there to be less steam…”

“Stiles, I don't care. In the woods, there were no boys' and girls' rooms.” The werecoyote stated, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

“Or clothes,” Zaida added, and it did nothing to draw Stiles’ mind away from the fact that beneath that towel was only bare skin. She smirked subtly at his reaction, watching the slight way his eyes bludged and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“So, uh, you’re not gonna get out of the shower?” The boy suggested, his back still turned to both girls as he averted his gaze anywhere but at them - or the mirrors.

“Not yet,” Malia shook her head, allowing the water to fall through her hair, taking her time.

“She likes the heat,” Zaida offered the boy an answer for her bizarre behaviour. “Since she shifted back to human, she’s always cold.”

“Maybe she just has a low core temp.” Stiles pondered a possible reason for the anomaly - anything to try and calm the racing of his heart. “You know, she might just be sick, or…”

“I used to have a fur coat.” Malia ended his rumination bluntly, shutting off the water when she realised he wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

“...Or, it could be...Hey, it might be that.” He murmured rapidly. “It's probably that.”

“Come on, Mal, put a towel on before the poor boy has a heart attack,” Zaida teased, handing the werecoyote a bundle of soft white fabric.

“So you two, you’re, uh…friends now?” Stiles commented on the girls’ easy dynamic.

“Nothing else says ‘bonding experience’ quite like being roomies in an insane asylum,” The naiad snorted, and Stiles sighed in relief when he could finally turn around without fear of seeing something he shouldn’t - and quite frankly, didn’t want to.

“I don’t do friends,” Malia clearly stated her stance, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t take it personally,” Zaida advised Stiles, who was caught off guard by the stark contrast in her disposition between now and the last time they’d properly spoken. When she’d entered the group therapy room that morning, he’d expected more recognition than the blank stare she’d offered him before sitting down. He wondered briefly if something had happened to prompt her cold attitude. “Coyotes tend to be into individualism.”

“So then this is…what? An unlikely alliance?” He tried to make sense of the strange initial forming of what appeared to be a bond between the two. It was a far cry from the greeting he’d received.

“You’re wondering why she punched you?” Zaida deduced from the words he didn’t say.

“Well, uh, yeah, actually,” Stiles nodded, his brows twitching towards each other in confusion.

“If it makes you feel any better, I punched her too.” Malia shrugged and Zaida swiftly interjected, holding up a finger.

“Correction - you tried to punch me. I did punch you, though.” She pointed out, and the strange lack of emotion regarding the situation was unnerving to Stiles. It set him on edge.

“But…why did you punch us?” He questioned, still not understanding the motive behind the act of aggression.

“Did you think I was going to thank you?” Malia arched an eyebrow challengingly.

“No.” He shook his head, then paused with a slight wince. “Maybe. We did kind of save your life…”

“Here we go,” Zaida huffed and took a step back, knowing he’d just prompted a rant.

“You're right, Stiles. Thank you! Thanks for invading my home...for putting me on the run...for turning me back to human, so that I could look at my father every day and try to figure out how to explain to him that the reason my sister and mother are dead is because I almost ate them on a full moon.” The werecoyote pursed her lips tightly. “Thank you so very much.”

Stiles was silent for several moments as Malia’s explanation only added to the growing mass of guilt within him. “We were just trying to help…”

“You want to help me? Work with Zaida to find a way to change me back!” She demanded.

“You want to go back? To being a coyote?” Stiles gawked at her, unable to fathom why until he remembered her reasoning.

“Exactly,” Malia nodded. “And Zaida said an alpha named Scott McCall might be able to do it.”

“Yeah, he might,” The boy dipped his chin, cogs in his brain whirring to come up with a solution to all of their problems. “But that means we get to call in a favour.”

“Okay,” She agreed instantaneously, desperate to go back to the way life was before being forced to shift. “What do you want?”

“I need to get into the basement…” Stiles’ eyes fell on Zaida, forcing his mind to remain on track. “We need to. Which means that we need to get the keys off of that orderly - the big one.”

“Brunski?” The werecoyote clarified.

“You help us, and we’ll help you.” He promised, and Zaida’s eyes sharpened as she wondered why he wanted to get into the basement so badly - even more so than his urge to escape the day before. Either way, this would present the perfect opportunity for her to cause some strife. The holes in her still-forming plan seemed to fill themselves out perfectly.

“This is a really bad plan,” Scott commented, running his hands through his hair as he sat on the couch, Lydia perched on the armrest. The Banshee and the Huntress had just run them through the outline of their heist plot.

“It's not that bad…” Lydia bristled, slightly offended.

“It's not that good!” Ethan protested, sinking deeper into the opposite couch.

“None of us knows the route they're going to take. If Allison can get one of her dad's GPS trackers on the armoured car, then we can follow it. So, when it gets here-” Lydia pointed to a spot they would inevitably have to pass, highlighted on a large map that was spread across the coffee table.

“We attack 'em?” Aiden interjected with a nod, following along.

“No.” Lydia stared at the twin admonishingly. “Your bikes will be in the middle of the road, looking like you guys got into an accident. And, when the driver gets out to help-”

“Then we attack 'em!” Aiden interrupted once more before the redhead could finish. She knew that if Zaida were there, the naiad would certainly have something to say about his affinity for violence. Which, to be perfectly honest, was somewhat hypocritical considering Zaida and Stiles were always the first two to support a more aggressive - though still logical - solution. But Zaida wasn’t there, which only served as a further reminder of why pulling this off was so important.

“No!” Both Allison and Lydia exclaimed in simultaneous frustration.

“You'll distract him, and Scott will break open the back door.” Lydia corrected

“...I hope,” Scott mumbled to himself, unsure of the likelihood of this plan’s success.

“And you'll get Katashi's finger.” Lydia encouraged the werewolf, confident in his abilities.

“It's not his actual finger, is it?” Ethan questioned, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the notion.

“We are so out of your league.” Lydia scoffed, shaking her head at the lack of enthusiasm in the room.

“Why aren't we just going to Stilinski for help?” Ethan suggested, not understanding why they would go through such efforts when there was seemingly a much simpler solution.

“Because, if he gets caught, then it's the Sheriff tampering with federal evidence,” Scott explained. With Agent McCall breathing down Noah’s neck, it wasn’t possible for the man to have anything to do with this. The last Lydia had heard, The Sheriff was out of town consulting with specialists in case Stiles’ diagnosis still remained true.

“Guys, this is going to work. We can do this.” Allison attempted to raise their forlorn spirits. “We're losing Zaida and Stiles...My dad and Derek are in jail for murder...We need to do this.”

Everyone knew the huntress was right. They couldn’t afford to not take this chance. Not with so many people’s lives on the table.

“See that guy over there,” Zaida crossed her arms, leaning her hip against a wall as she faced Malia, nodding towards the sandy-haired boy from group therapy.

“You mean Oliver?” The werecoyote clarified, looking over. All of Eichen House’s residents were currently enjoying free time in the common area of the facility. The boy in question was shifting from foot to foot with an empty smile on his face, looking entirely too naive for his own good.

“I mean the boy that looks like he sleeps with a night light,” Zaida identified what had drawn her attention to him in the first place - an easy victim. “He’s perfect.”

“I don’t know,” Malia titled her head, unsure of the choice. “Oliver’s pretty stable.”

“I don’t think anyone in here is stable - that’s kind of the whole point,” The naiad snorted, insisting on her choice. “Trust me, he’s the one.”

“What do I tell him?” Malia questioned, accepting the decision.

Zaida thought for a moment before a slow smile spread across her lips. “Tell him you heard another patient was trepanned.” She stated mischievously with a glint in her hazel eyes.

“What’s that?” The wereocyote’s brows furrowed in confusion, not recognising the term.

“Trepanation? It’s an old medical procedure where a hole is drilled into the skull. In the fifteen hundreds, it was thought that it released evil and demonic spirits from the soul.” The irony of the matter did not go over her head.

“That’s stupid,” Malia stated but wasted no more time before marching over the Oliver and engaging with him in conversation. Seeing the girl walk over, Stiles nodded at Zaida from the other side of the room, walking over to wait behind a corner so as not to be associated with what was about to happen.

Surely enough, the innocent glow on Oliver’s face faded to an expression of horror and he lashed out with his fist. The blow landed on Malia’s jaw, knocking her backwards before she was tackled to the ground where Oliver pinned her. “You're lying! You're a liar!” The boy screamed in her face, spittle flying. As planned, Malia remained calm, controlling her aggression with the promise of what she would receive should they succeed.

“What the hell's going on?” The senior-most orderly rushed onto the scene, exactly as expected.

“You're lying!” Oliver was still losing his mind, his face going bright red.

“Get this nutjob off of me!” Malia called out for help, and orderlies rushed the scene. Now it was Zaida’s turn to act.

“No! She said that they drill holes in your head! She said they're gonna put a hole in my head!” Oliver yelled as Brunski wrapped an arm around his neck, hauling him off Malia. Only Zaida saw the glint of light reflecting off metal as Malia got to her feet, lifting the keys from Brunski’s belt and folding them within her closed hand.

Zaida quickly rushed over to the werecoyote, helping her stand and shielding the sight of her passing on the keys with their bodies. “Please, come on! Please, don't…” Oliver was still sobbing and shaking as he was dragged away. “Please don't drill a hole in my head!”

Zaida nodded knowingly to Malia as two remaining orderlies gripped her arms and pulled her away too, likely taking her back to their room. As soon as the area was clear, Zaida slipped around the corner, bumping into Stiles and slipping the keys into his pocket in a fluid motion.

“Sorry,” She mumbled a faux apology, locking eyes with the boy. He must have seen something unfamiliar because his brows dipped in concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked her in a tender voice, starting to worry about the girl’s apparent despondency. There was nothing of the girl that had broken down in his arms only a few days ago. Not for the first time, he wondered if she had started to realise that everything that had happened to her was his fault. He wouldn’t blame her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She insisted forcefully. “Now go. Unlock the door and then lose the keys and head back to your room. We’ll come get you when the night shifters circle around to the left wing.”

Stiles dipped his chin and followed her instruction, headed towards the door that led to the basement he’d become so transfixed by. As soon as he was out of sight, Zaida walked straight up to a female orderly. “Excuse me? I think a patient stole something from one of the staff members,” She reported. "Well, a few things, actually."

Scott pulled on his hoodie over his t-shirt, preparing to face far more than the incoming wave of winter chill that night. As he turned towards the front door of his house, ready to meet up with the rest of the pack, he found himself face-to-face with a dark-haired girl.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her, having purposefully not given her any details about their plans.

“I want to help,” Kira answered insistently, not taking no for an answer. She stood before with hopeful eyes.

“I'm not sure it's such a good idea…” Scott trailed off. His heart wanted to cave, but he knew better than to allow it. Kira was new to all of this - very new. If anything bad happened to her he would certainly feel personally responsible for involving her. He’d been the one advocating to tell her the truth about everything.

“Because of my mother?” The kitsune guessed - incorrectly . She assumed that since the woman was clearly involved in everything that was currently unravelling in Beacon Hills, they may not trust her either.

“No, I know that's not your fault.” Scott shook his head, denying the claim but not offering an alternative.

“Yeah, but it still feels like it is. And, if I can help, shouldn't I?” Kira offered once more, revealing to him just a small part of the guilt she carried for her family’s involvement.

“People who help us usually end up getting hurt...Badly.” The werewolf finally caved and explained the true reason why he was so hesitant to allow her to come. He remembered Erica and Boyd, and what had become of them both.

“Okay, but I've been practising-” Kira promised, defending her growing skill set.

“Practicing what?” Scott tilted his head at her curiously, and she pulled her belt from around her waist, whipping it outwards.

“I've been picking this up really fast - like crazy fast.” She smiled and the metal links solidified into one long, connected form with a sharp edge, almost taking off Scott’s arm in the process.

“...You sure about that?” Scott chuckled, ducking out of the way quickly and thanking his werewolf reflexes for likely saving him his limb.

“Sorry,” Kira grimaced bashfully, gripping the hilt of her katana and stepping back to allow for some room. “Watch!”

Kira focused on her reflexes and the way her muscles called to her, following their orders as if they had memorised some ancient dance she didn't remember ever learning. The sword moved as though it was an extension of her, spinning and obeying her every command as she twirled through move after move. When she was done with her demonstration, Scott was left silent with his mouth gaping wide open in surprise.

“Okay…” He nodded eagerly, acknowledging her abilities with an impressed expression. His worries dissipated as he realised she’d certainly be able to hold her own. But it was also more than that - she could be a powerful ally. “You're coming.”

“Let me out!” Stiles was screaming, thrashing on the white floor of the padded room as Malia snapped the lock and she and Zaida barged in, kneeling by his side.

“Stiles!” The werecoyote whisper-shouted, shaking him awake from his nightmare. The boy shot up into a seated position with a jolt and a loud, ragged gasp.

“No, no, no!” He cried out, half-sobbing and fighting against Malia’s grip as Zaida stood back, watching. Everything was working out exactly as she wanted it to - exactly as he needed it to. Brunski had caught Stiles trying to break into the basement with the keys he’d stolen and had discovered the illicit drugs Morrell had provided. Without those meds…well, Stiles had been forced to sleep. Zaida was willing to bet those lightning bolts zig-zagging across Stiles’ body would be fast retreating by now.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Malia tried to get the boy to quiet down so as to not draw so much attention to them. The night shifts were run with half the number of staff, but he was yelling loud enough to attract anyone within a three-corridor radius. Her patience did not take long to wear thin. “Shhhh! Shut up!”

“How…How did you get in here?” Stiles’ gaze darted from Malia to Zaida, his heart instantly calming as soon as he laid eyes on the naiad.

“I broke the lock. If I concentrate, I can be pretty strong…” Malia shrugged, getting to her feet. “Get up.”

“Malia says there's another way to the basement,” Zaida answered what would inevitably have been his first question - what’s going on?

“Yeah, it’s through the closed unit.” The werecoyote nodded. “Where they keep the real psychos.”

“That’s where I was,” Zaida jested dryly with an arched brow, opening to door to the quiet room and holding it open for both Malia and Stiles to exit first. “Before I got transferred.”

“Great, so you know the way,” The werecoyote brushed off the comment, not understanding the humour behind it. The girl’s emotional intelligence was severely lacking.

“Thank you,” Stiles said to her in a tender voice, amber eyes shining in his gratitude. “For coming for me.”

Zaida smiled softly and he walked ahead, leaving her with a tugging at her heartstrings that didn’t fade as easily as the rest of her emotions. “Don’t thank me just yet.” She muttered to herself.